Ξενύχτικον "Μιραμπέλλα"

I went downtown with the intention of buying a shoe spray, a Bluetooth stick for my laptop and then cosy down with a decent cup of coffee, read the Times and enjoy a cigarette. And so I go downtown, get my Saturday edition of The Times (good exercise mind you since the bloody thing weighs at least a kilo) and seat at Nero café and enjoy my life and youth. On another note, the Giles Coren articles are the best; I always laugh out loud when I read them and the way he humiliates restaurants in his reviews is a pleasure to read.
So I buy my Bluetooth stick to stick it where I know and make my minimalist room wireless (as if I need it, but I’ve always been a technology buff). With that little piece of plastic I can synchronize my Outlook 2003 with my Samsung D500 while never actually touching the damned thing due to my Bluetooth headset. So next time you are calling and my voice sounds funny its almost definitely me talking to you while tied in a knot practicing my yoga.
The ease through which I purchased my Bluetooth stick (I just looove saying Bluetooth stick, pronouncing in Cypriot fashion the “ck” part) was overwhelmed by the ordeal of buying my shoe spray. Truth be told, I wear the same pair of athletic shoes every day. I am not dirty, but due to poor genetic material, of which I blame my parents, I have flat feet (platypodia) so regular shoes are a pain to wear for long walks.
I go to Boots, a lovely girl seems very eager to assist me, an eagerness which makes me suspect that either I am too sexy without realizing it or she wants to be employee of the month (working on commission is not an option to be ruled out). The dialogue goes like that:
-Hello! Can I have a shoe spray please?
-Sure, follow me! (We zigzag our way to the Foot Care department.)
-Here it is! Dr Scholl’s Athlete’s foot spray.
- I need a shoe spray I’m afraid, not a foot spray.
-Would you care for a Dr Scholl Athlete foot powder then?
-No, just a shoe spray please.
-We got these Boots brand soles for comfortable walking, and if you buy a pair you get this callus trimmers at half price.
-No, no, no. Just a shoe spray please.
-We even got these foot masks (I beg your pardon?) that help your feet relax, only 1 pound.
-No, just a shoe spray PLEASE!
-Have you seen our new range of nail care products? They are on discount this weekend and you can get triple Boots points!
At this point I’m starting to lose my patience.
-No, thanks. Just the shoe spray.
-This Dr Scholl ointment works miracles! I’m using it myself.
Take my word for it people. At that particular instance the last thing on my mind was whether the aforementioned shop assistant had fungi growing between her toes. Those of you who know me well can pretty much figure out my response.
-Listen to me woman! I don’t want miraculous ointments! Actually, it would be a miracle if you just showed me a bloody shoe spray!
Obviously I said that a bit loud because an old lady, a cousin of Methuselah no doubt and a relative to the old lady in my last posting, in a tweed skirt touches me on the shoulder and joins the conversation.
-Where are your manners young man? She is only trying to help! Back in my days men used to be more courteous and polite! (There we go again.)
Great, Just what I needed; Mary Poppins with one foot in the grave. The clerk encouraged by the old woman delivers the final blow.
-I will have you know that this store operates a non-toleration policy for troublemakers. And NO! We don’t carry shoe sprays!
An epiphany! She spend a good quarter of my hour assuming mushrooms were growing between my toes and now she tells me I misbehave. I also notice that the security guard is looking at me. I leave to avoid being beaten up or even worse, be forced to by Dr Scholl’s foot ointment.
I go to Superdrugs with no luck there either. Remember that story we used to read in junior school where a women is taken to court because “Ανοίγει την μεγάλη τσάντα, βγάζει το μικρό τσαντάκι, κλείνει τη μεγάλη τσάντα, ανοίγει το μικρό τσαντάκι κ.ο.κ.; It can happen. I leave Superdrugs and head to Wilkinsons, then Athlete’s Foot (it’s curious they are not selling Dr Scholl products) then JD and finally to Drugmart and Pound Store. I decide to use my deodorant for the shoes. Obviously the British have no cares about their smelly shoes. I suspect store clerks get high by smelling them.